


034 - The First Ever Van McPan Story

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: M/M, Reader-Insert, Van McPan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 12:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Gay Van? Any little tiny weeny chance? This solitary male van lover can’t find any gay fanfic anywhere. Bless me, im begging.”





	034 - The First Ever Van McPan Story

You didn't mean to end up living a stereotypical life. You actively had tried everything in your power to avoid it, in fact. In the end though, you resigned to the fact that you'd never really be friends with a group of straight boys. You knew a few, and they were alright, but there was something in their awkward handshakes and uncomfortable silences that made you wonder how alright they were on the inside. So, when Cass said she wanted you to meet her boyfriend and his friends, you were less than excited. You made the assumption that they were probably straight, and sitting in a room with a bunch of tipsy straight white boys never worked out well for you in the past. 

It was early in the night when you met Benji. Cass ran the last few steps to press her body to his. He shook your hand and asked how you were. You answered politely and followed them into the bar. Benji's friends had hijacked all four couches that faced each other in an uneven square, despite not requiring them all. Benji and Cass sat down on one, and opposite them was a guy in a dark red shirt you appreciated. It looked like velvet but you didn't want to stare. He had occupied almost the entire couch space, so you took a couch for yourself. Benji poured you and Cass a drink from one of the jugs on the table. 

For a while you just listened to their chatter. Cass told Bondy, the guy in the red shirt, to tell you about one of their shows that almost ended in a shut down. There were some girls in the crowd that looked stressed out, and their singer noticed. He stopped the gig and made a security guard check on them. Some guy in the crowd was touching them, and the singer launched himself off stage at the dude when he refused to leave. Ever loyal, the rest of the band and joined in and it was chaos. 

"I guess that's just Van though," Bondy finished, laughing. 

"Where is he anyway?" Benji asked. And as if he could only appear once his name had been said, a body landed next to you. He'd jumped the back of the couch and sat grinning. 

"Lads! What's going on?" he took a big gulp from a jug, skipping a glass. "Cass, how are you?" She smiled wide at him, and you knew she liked him. 

"I'm good. Van, that's Y/N. Y/N, Van," she introduced. Van turned to you and stuck out a hand. 

"How are ya, mate?" You just nodded as he drank from the jug again. You looked at Cass and she knew what you were thinking. Straight white boys. So confusing.

As the night went on and more stories were told, you became increasingly impressed with them as individuals and as a collective group. They hadn't said anything that made you uncomfortable, and they treated both you and Cass as one of the group. Bondy went to get more drinks, and Cass and Benji were absorbed in the task of trying to identify the species of flowers that were printed on his shirt. Van turned to you. He was sinking into the couch and one of his legs was bouncing. 

"How'd you meet Cass?" he asked. 

"Our parents have been friends forever. Known each other since preschool kind of thing," you said and he nodded. 

"It's like me and my best mate Larry," 

"I've heard of Larry," you told him. His face lit up. 

"Yeah? What's Cass said?" he asked, sitting up a little, interested in what you could say. 

"Little, right? She thinks he's cute or whatever, and says he's not in the band, but he's still... in the band?" 

"Yeah, that's right. That's him," Van smiled softly and looked away for a second. The love was written all over his face. "I like Cass. She's the best girlfriend Benj's ever had, easy," 

"Yeah, she's great," you agreed. 

"If I were you, I would have probably tried to marry her already though," he said laughing, and there it was. There was no reason for Cass to tell any of them that you were gay. It probably came up when she told Benji about you, but it would be a weird thing to lead with for the others. 

"Uh, yeah, I probably would have if I wasn't, you know, gay," you replied. 

"The only reason any man has ever said no to her, probably," Van replied, unfazed. You wanted to live in a world where the standard is more than just 'isn't a dick,' but alas, you didn't. So, Van's response was remarkable. He didn't pause awkwardly. He didn't make a joke about having exceptions. He didn't change how close he was sitting to you, angled into the old couch. He just carried on like it was normal; which to anyone with half a brain and half a heart, it so obviously was. You kept talking to him, and when you mentioned The Streets his face lit up again and his blue eyes grew wide.

"Oh, mate! Mike Skinner is a genius, isn't he? I read his book a few years back, and man, so cool,"

"Me and Cass made this weird video for Fit But You Know It when we were in high school. It's probably still up on YouTube somewhere," 

"I tried to make the guys do a cover but they said I sounded dead stupid singing it," he laughed.

"He doesn't sound all that bright in it either, so I guess that makes sense,"

"Yeah. Yeah. What else do you like?"

There were enough similarities between your tastes in music and film that the Venn diagram was almost a perfect circle. The only thing that you disagreed on was football. 

"Mate. Have you even watched it or are you just ruling it out?" 

"I've never, like, stuck a knife in my face but I'm ruling that out," you replied. He looked offended. "I'm a cliche gay and don't 'get' sport,"

"Nah. My mate Ben comes over all the time to play Fifa and he's gay so I don't think that's a good excuse," 

"Of all the suffering I do because of being gay, if I want to use it to my benefit to get out of this, I will," you replied. He nodded and you'd almost won. You could see the exact moment his next sentence popped into his head. There was a second where he considered if he should say it. 

"But the guys that play football are fit, innit?" You laughed at him, which served as encouragement. "People love Cristiano Ronaldo," 

"He's that well famous one, right?"

"Yeah. Forward for Real Madrid and the Portugal national team,"

"Right. And he's a babe?"

"He's not my type, I'd go Neymar myself, but Ronaldo draws a crowd, yeah." 

You laughed again, and said you needed to see these people. Van took his phone out and showed you Ronaldo, who you did recognise. You made an 'eh' sound and shrugged. Van nodded in agreeance. He then showed you Neymar. 

"Not what I expected your type to be," you said. Van laughed.

"Got a good smile, doesn't he?" he replied. He wasn't joking. 

"Yeah. Still not my type. Never been into muscles. Used to have a crush on the guitarist from The Horrors,"

"The one with the mad hair?" You didn't know why it was important to you that Van knew that you liked pasty musicians more than football players, but you were happy when he knew who you meant. 

When the bartender had to kick you out well after 3am, you'd almost exclusively talked to Van. Bondy bid you all farewell outside and got into an uber. 

"Where to now?" Cass asked. She was the least drunk, and most eager to not have the night be over. Benji wrapped his arm around her and kissed her hair. 

"Drinks or food," Van asked. 

"Both," you and Cass answered at the same time. 

"That Mexican place on the corner has shots and frozen margaritas," Benji suggested. Everyone was in agreeance. Cass and Benji led the way, and you and Van trailed after. 

Burritos are messy to eat at the best of times, but when they are made by tired uni students working the graveyard shift, and when they are consumed by drunk people, it gets worse. The important thing is that most of the food ended up in stomachs, and what was on the table Van politely attempted to clean with an excessive amount of napkins. He carried the pile to a bin, and when he returned he was carrying a tray of tequila shots, lemon, and salt. 

As you watched Van's face twist up with the sourness of the lemon, you could feel a tiny little crush forming. You could pretend all you wanted, but he was just too pretty and too sweet and too in love with the world not to like. You glanced over at Cass, and she gave you a sad smile to which you shrugged. The next decision to be made was where to go next. Van lived with Larry, but he was out of town. It was also in walking distance.

Cass and Benji lasted ten minutes on the couch before they disappeared down the hallway giggling.

"Please use Larry's room, not mine!" Van called after them. He was lying on the floorboards stretched out as long as he could. You could see his belly button where his shirt rode up. "Fifa?" he asked, looking at you. You stared back, hoping to convey your emotion. "Yeeeeeeeeeesssss, mate."

Like eating burritos, learning a video game was not easy at the best of times. Drunk on a sickening mixture of alcohol was not a prime state to be in for the task. Determined if nothing else, Van kept showing you how to play. At times he literally moved your fingers and thumbs. Your first goal was a religious experience for him. He cheers and high fived you and smiled from ear to ear. You tried to stay focused and learn, just to keep seeing him so happy. After a whole game of Team Van and Y/N versus the computer, he switched it off.

"I've made you suffer enough," he explained and switched the television over to some late night music video show. You sat side by side quietly. Van's breathing evened out and soon you could hear the small sounds of sleep. You looked over for confirmation. You considered waking him so he could go to bed, but you didn't know how to not make that weird. Then, his head rolled onto your shoulder. Your entire body went tense and you didn't know what to do, so you did nothing.

Three weird 80s video clips later and Van slowly woke up. He sat up and looked around dazed and disorientated. He focused on you.

"Alright?" he asked and you nodded. He got up and went to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. You drank yours in one go, the same as him. He sat back down next to you. You were painfully aware of the second vacant couch, and the lack of space between your just-touching thighs. "Don't think I've ever really met someone like you," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"You're just… like, you like the same stuff as me, like a mate, but... I don’t know. It's not like that," Van tried to explain, but you could see he was struggling with articulation. It may have been the alcohol, but it may have been a different source of confusion. He looked at you then, and his eyes flicked from feature to feature. It felt like a much too personal look, and you turned back to the television. "When did you know you were gay?" The question reverberated in your mind. You forced yourself not to read into it.

"I don't know. Just never really liked any girl, then I started to like guys,"

"So you just liked a guy one day and then you knew?" He was simplifying it. It was not that easy. But in the warm glow of the television and under the drunk disorder of the alcohol, yes, it was just like that. You made a half shrug, half nod action. You were daring yourself to look back at him.

"Why?" you asked.

He was sitting up straight on the couch. In your peripheral vision you could see that he was facing you. Maybe he didn't know why he was asking. You looked over at him, and his head was on an angle and he was committing your face to memory again. Slowly he lifted his hand and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. It was so light you could barely feel it, and it was so intimate you almost cried. Instead of taking his hand from your face, he placed his index and middle finger under your chin, tilting your head up. He leant in and kissed you. It was only just a thing, so gentle and so short that maybe it only happened in the deep recesses of your mind. You didn't kiss back.

When he moved away and his hand dropped and you started to breathe again, he was still watching you. He didn't jump up and play the drunk card, or tell you to fuck off. He was waiting for you to do something. You made a small movement forward and he closed the gap quickly. This time, now with encouragement, one of his hand rested on the back of your neck, and the other held your thigh tight. You kissed him back and let his tongue run along the top of yours. You were playing chicken to see who'd break the kiss first. Your lungs started to burn at the same time as his, and you broke away mutually. He laughed then and sat back into the couch. A dark ripple of fear flashed through you. You went to say that you wouldn't tell anyone, or that maybe you were sorry, but he spoke first.

"Is dating a boy like dating your best mate, but with kissing?" It was the most innocent and most pure thing you'd ever heard a straight white boy say. That was it though, that he clearly wasn't a straight white boy. You nodded and he smiled. You settled into the couch next to him, and he put his arm around you.

"So, Van, when did you know you were gay?" you joked.

"No, but here's the thing, is there a word for just liking all people? Like, anyone that is willing to play Fifa with me?" he asked. Bless.

"Um. Bisexual is liking two or more genders. Pansexual is all genders; so that's everyone?" you replied.

"I'll be that one," he decided casually.

"You're just going to be pansexual?" you asked, looking up. He nodded happily. Like most queer people, it wasn't a choice for Van to be attracted to more than just one gender, but he seemed to like the ownership of the label. It suited him too.

You passed out in Van's arms, and when you woke up Cass was sitting on the coffee table eating a bowl of Fruit Loops.

"What's this then?" she asked. You thought there should be more surprised in her tone and face. You didn't want to answer her, because you didn't know what Van wanted to tell people. You sat up, thereby forcing Van awake. His eyes slowly opened and he looked at you and smiled, then noticed Cass.

"Cass, morning," he said.

"Good morning, Van. How are you?" she said, her tone cautious and amused. She was waiting for explanation from someone, or maybe just confirmation.

"Good. Fantastic. Hungover. You?" he replied.

"I'm alright. Took some panadol. Anything of interest happen after we went to bed?"

"Nah. Showed Y/N how to play Fifa. He's alright for a beginner. We made out for a bit and I'm pansexual now. Is there any milk left?" he asked as he stood up, ruffled your hair and walked into the kitchen. Cass smiled at you.

"No fucking way. Really?" she said, but seemed truly unsurprised somehow. You nodded. "Y/N. Oh my god. Of all the skinny fucking weirdo band boys, who would have thought Van would be the gay one,"

"First of all, pansexual. Second of all, there's probably more than one, Cass."

She laughed, and you followed her into the kitchen where Van was pouring a bowl of Fruit Loops for you too. As you all ate you decided what you could do to Benji, who was still passed out in Larry's bed.

So, maybe you wouldn't end up a cliché after all. Maybe you could have some straight dude friends. It just took you a while to find some truly good people, and in case that wasn’t amazing enough, life delivered Van to you too. Happy, uncomplicated, brave, loyal, pansexual Van.


End file.
